Forbidden
by DancingRaindrops
Summary: -"It's wrong to feel this way about your girlfriend's best friend."- But he simply can't help it. Harry/Luna, one-shot. For my Teddy.


_A/N: For my amazing Teddykins. Happy 15th birthday :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Forbidden<strong>

The war's over, and he's a hero.

Everything is as it ought to be.

It's been three days since the battle, and she's hardly seen him out of Ginny's sight.

She can't tell if it's for his sake or hers, though she's desperately hoping for the latter.

But either way, the gorgeous redhead with her fiery personality (and how many times has she heard that phrase over the years?) has won yet again (far too many times, it seems), her knight in shining armor back safely in her arms.

He doesn't have time for the girl in the corner with mud beneath her fingernails and dirty blonde hair full of tangles and a head full of Wrackspurts and those strange things that whisper to her in the night.

He's a hero. And she's an outcast.

Some things never change.

... ... ...

He doesn't know how it happened, quite honestly.

One moment it was nothing but Voldemort and Horcruxes and evil and battling on and on, and then it was suddenly over.

Horcruxes gone, Voldemort gone, Fred gone, Lupin gone, Tonks gone, Dobby gone, Colin gone…

The list never seems to end.

People cheer when he walks into a room, complete strangers clapping him on the back and telling him, "well done," like he's done well on his OWLs or something equally insignificant.

No one understands what it feels like.

Like how he can't bear it when the lights go out abruptly, as though he's being plunged into darkness alone and he can't find his way out. Like how he can still feel the weight of a house elf's body in his arms. Like how so many, many names belong to people who aren't here anymore, and no matter what anyone else says, it's still his fault.

It's all his fault.

... ... ...

She can feel someone watching her sometimes.

_Who would have ever thought that Neville Longbottom would be such a hero?_

Countless people have said it lately, and it makes her quiver with indignation every time. _I did_, she wants to retaliate, stamping her foot. _He was brave and kind for ages before you realized it._

And that's just it. He's brave and kind and - well, he cares about her. Or at least, when he looks at her, it isn't with the _that's her, the crazy girl who was kidnapped_look that she sees every time someone else glances her way.

But he isn't the Chosen One.

He isn't _her _chosen one.

... ... ...

He's never alone these days. To be honest, he never really was, but these days it's more than just the Weasleys and Hermione.

Everyone wants his autograph. Everyone wants a picture. Everyone wants him to _tell once more,_ _how was it that you… _on and on, an endless stream of words that he can't make sense of anymore.

Ron and Hermione vanish these days, leaving him to face the reporters and the wide-eyed fans alone. He understands, of course, but surely it couldn't hurt for them to rescue him once in awhile instead of running off together every five minutes?

And Ginny, her lovely freckles and blazing look exactly as he conjured up the memories during all those weeks in the tent, always holding his hand or waving to him from across the room. But there's nothing to _say_to her anymore.

Was there ever?

It's all so foreign to him, these things that he's feeling. It just doesn't ever stop.

He may not be alone, but he's lonelier than ever.

... ... ...

It's a quiet day at Hogwarts. Or at least, outside is.

The Great Hall is filled with people like it always is, with witches and wizards roaming the stairways and passages, doing all they can to repair and rebuild what used to be such a safe, happy world. It's mostly a damaged wreck now.

It's difficult to stand it for more than a few minutes at a time.

She's sitting by the lake, staring at the great expanse and thinking about what would happen if she somehow slipped in and disappeared forever.

No one would notice.

"Luna." It's a whisper on the wind, someone breathing her name like it's the most beautiful word ever spoken. Something's holding her back.

She closes her eyes, tilting her head towards the sky and breathing in the fresh air. It would be lovely to be a bird. To simply fly away from everything, to leave it all behind without worrying about who wouldn't miss you. To never be captured and locked away.

"_Luna_." It's stronger this time, and when she opens her eyes in surprise, the owner of the voice isn't the wind or a daydream come to life after all. It's him, disheveled black hair and round glasses sitting crookedly on his nose.

His emerald eyes are dimmed, just slightly, like the shadow of darkness won't quite leave him ever again.

She inhales sharply and lets her gaze flicker to the ground before meeting his eyes once more, the pain written in his face too heartbreaking for her to look at for a moment. "Hello, Harry."

... ... ...

"Oh, hello, Harry."

She doesn't look at him immediately, and there's a touch of melancholy in her eyes when she finally does.

It's odd to think that Luna, always so refreshingly unique from everyone else, has been as deeply affected by the war as he has.

"Hello." He sits down beside her rather ungracefully, startled to look up and find her staring at him so intently that he feels rather self-conscious. "Er...how have you been? We haven't spoken much lately..."

"No, I suppose we haven't," she replies simply in that straightforward, dreamy way of speaking that he's never heard from anyone else. "But that's to be expected."

He's bewildered by the reasoning behind this comment, but then again, it doesn't take much to do that these days. "Well, it shouldn't be," he finally says, resisting the surprising urge to tuck a falling strand of Luna's hair behind her ear.

She smiles at him almost wistfully, reaching out and brushing the top of his hand for a moment. "It's alright, Harry. Tell Ginny I said hi."

Before he can recover from his shock enough to grasp her hand properly or say something in reply, Luna's on her feet and fluidly walking away with a natural motion that resembles dancing more than anything else.

It's strange, how much it hurts to see her leave.

... ... ...

Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Blibbering Humdingers. A little girl with tousled blonde hair and the most beautiful green eyes she's ever seen.

No one else believes in any of the things she dreams of late at night.

As she makes her way to the Burrow, she collects daisies and creates a chain of them, each flower reminding her of a time when Harry looked her way and smiled.

"Luna!" She shakes her head to clear her ridiculous thoughts, already grinning and holding out her arms for the hug that she knows is coming.

"Ginny," she whispers warmly, holding her best friend close. How terrible to love someone unrequitedly. How awful to betray one's best friend with secret wishes and desires. How utterly disloyal.

"We have to talk," says the redhead excitedly, brown eyes glowing with an inherent happiness she can't help but envy.

"I'd love to." Her smile falls just slightly, but Ginny has already looped one arm through hers and begun speaking again.

"You know, I realized yesterday that you've never spent more than a night here? You live close enough that we never thought of it before, I suppose. But I'm so glad you've come to the Burrow for a proper long stay at last, even if it is for the funeral." Ginny bites her lip at this reminder, closing her eyes and reliving, Luna has no doubt, those awful moments in the Great Hall last week.

"It's alright, Ginny." She rests her head on her friend's shoulder reassuringly for a moment before spontaneously lifting the necklace of lovely flowers off her neck and placing it around Ginny's. "Fred's in a good place now, I'm sure of it."

Ginny smiles back at her affectionately, squeezing her arm in thanks. "It's so wonderful to have you with me, Luna."

She nods wordlessly, swallowing the lump of regret and jealousy and guilt that has been residing in her throat for months.

"You're my best friend, Ginny." And she mustn't let herself forget it.

... ... ...

"Night, Ginny."

"Goodnight, Harry," she murmurs softly, her arms entwined around his neck as she stands on her tiptoes to press her lips against his.

He pulls away a second later, turning his head so she won't see the confusion that he knows must be visible on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow."

It doesn't take any magical powers to imagine the look on his supposed girlfriend's face as he breaks away from her grasp and walks down the hallway, turning without a backward glance.

It's more difficult to understand why he doesn't seem to care anymore.

"Are you staying with Ginny tonight?" The ethereal voice comes from the figure in the hallway to his left, those knowing grey eyes meeting his. "Because if you are, I can sleep on the couch downstairs, and I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind staying with Ron."

"No!" he protests immediately, before catching himself and correcting his tone. "I mean...it's alright, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anyone else."

She studies him for a moment, eyebrows lifted and permanently surprised-looking as always. "You don't have to pretend, Harry."

A thrill runs through to his fingertips when she says the words he didn't know he had been waiting to hear. "Not with you," he whispers back hoarsely, swallowing. "Never with you."

Her breath hitches ever so slightly, radish earrings swinging as she looks down at her feet. "You shouldn't say things like that," she chastises him softly, still avoiding his gaze. "You can't - I can't - "

"Can't what?" He doesn't quite know what he himself means, but she's already pushing past him, waist-length blonde hair swaying behind her as she retreats to Ginny's - his girlfriend's - room.

He realizes with a jolt how fervently he hates watching her walk away from him.

... ... ...

Funerals bring back terrible memories for her.

It takes every ounce of fortitude she has not to completely break down the moment she sees the casket.

But the Weasleys are suffering more than she is at the moment, and she has to remain strong for them, if not for herself.

Her hands clench into fists at her sides, twisting the black material of her dress robes. After taking a few shaky deep breaths to calm herself somewhat, she opens her eyes.

His arms are wrapped around Ginny, one hand slowly rubbing her back and the other resting comfortingly on her strikingly beautiful hair. Her head is on his shoulder, a tear sliding down her cheek and into his robes. They look absolutely made for each other.

Something inside of her crumbles, and she knows now that last night and the way his piercing green eyes stared at her mean absolutely nothing. Not to him, not to her, and certainly not to the rest of the world.

She takes off running, her bare feet carrying her farther and farther away from another funeral, away from the pain and the grief, away from _them_.

Is it possible to mend a broken heart, she muses, if you are the only one to blame for it breaking?

... ... ...

It's wrong.

He tells himself fifty times over, from the moment he wakes up until he finally drifts off to sleep.

It's wrong to think about her that way, wrong to imagine her dreamy smile, wrong to laugh at a memory of her adorable quirkiness.

It's wrong to feel this way about your girlfriend's best friend.

She avoids him after the funeral with a quiet determination that hardly anyone else seems to notice. Always fading into the corners of the room when he enters, her eyes never meeting his.

He's tempted to ask Ginny if anything's wrong with Luna, but that would somehow give far too much away. He can already feel Hermione's keen eyes on him lately, her intuition and logic putting two and two together.

Ron will murder him if there's the slightest hint of him betraying Ginny. Luckily, he can't help but think to himself wryly, his best friend isn't exactly the most perceptive person in the world.

Luna chooses this precise moment to walk across the room, her gaze lingering on the way Ginny's fingers are intertwined with his.

He personally can't tear his eyes away from her flawless features, wondering to himself why he never saw her like this before Ginny.

He shakes his head, trying to end this line of thought before it goes any further.

It's wrong to even think about cheating. It's far worse to want to.

... ... ...

It's difficult to watch someone cry.

When she wakes up in the middle of the night and wanders downstairs so as not to disturb Ginny, she's immediately struck with how awful it is to see someone grieving.

He's on the floor in front of the fireplace, his knees bent up and his elbows resting on them. A few tears slip down his face, a quiet sniff somehow filling the entire room.

Instinctively, she sits beside him and rests her head on his shoulder, watching the way the glowing flames flicker with a magic all their own.

She can feel his body subtly shift to support her more, his left hand reaching for hers and grasping it tightly.

Though she knows she ought to say something, it doesn't feel quite right to interrupt the perfect stillness in the air with meaningless words. As long as the silence remains, so can this fantasy.

For now, there are only the whispers of the fire and the soft, slow inhales and exhales of the boy next to her.

"Luna," he murmurs some time later, his voice thick with a tumult of emotions, "thank you."

Rather than replying with words, she lifts her head slightly and brushes her lips against his tearstained cheek.

It's meant to be nothing more than a gesture of friendship. Neither of them can deny, however, that there's something completely natural about the way he turns and kisses the corner of her smile with all of his insecurity and tenderness with a hint of hope.

His right hand cups her face delicately as he pulls away, a moment's hesitation as a fire burns in her veins.

It isn't an accident when she leans forward and parts her lips once more.

... ... ...

There's something utterly reckless about a forbidden romance.

A brief second of eye contact suddenly has so many hidden meanings behind it now.

When Ginny attempts to kiss him in the morning, he turns his head and begins talking to deter her. He can still taste Luna, still feel the steady burning in the corner of his mouth.

Their hands brush against one another when she hands him a plate at breakfast, the light touch sending a tingling shiver down his spine.

When she lets a mysterious smile creep up on her face, he stares far longer than he knows he should, trying to capture the image in his mind.

"Harry," says Hermione urgently in a hushed voice, "I hope you know what you're doing." Her glowing brown eyes are wide with concern, and he's almost tempted to laugh at her familiar solemnity.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies noncommittally, turning his chin slightly so he doesn't have to look directly at her.

"Harry, please. Just...make sure you know what you really want before you rush into something," she counsels him, one hand gently shaking his shoulder to make him turn towards her.

He meets her eyes and nods firmly, knowing that she's perfectly right and he seriously needs to consider his actions, past and future. Hermione smiles warmly, pleased that her advice has had some sort of effect.

The girl with blonde hair cascading down her back in waves bites her lip on the other side of the room, and he realizes then that he's already lost.

All of the friendly advice in the world couldn't make this thrilling sensation go away.

He wonders vaguely if this is what being in love feels like.

... ... ...

It doesn't take long for her to make the decision.

Though Ravenclaws such as herself are prized for their wit, she knows that courage and loyalty (and ambition too, of course, but that's somewhat less applicable here) are necessary as well.

The idea that Hogwarts itself would support her idea is instrumental in making up her mind.

She has to leave.

It's impossible for her to stay, of course.

Harry means the world to her at present, but she can't let him throw everything away for her. His girlfriend, his best friend, the only family he's ever known, the opinion of the public who adores him so.

She isn't worth any of that.

Yet it's impossible for her to stay and watch it all play out.

To witness every moment in his relationship with Ginny, to exchange longing looks with him across the room for years, to hide her feelings from everyone else and steal kisses from him in shadowy corners.

It would be unthinkable.

But the way it felt when he kissed her...

For a single moment, she closes her eyes and envisions a perfect life with him, free of all pesky obligations and prying journalists and petty jealousies.

She can't.

And that's what hurts the most.

... ... ...

"Harry?"

He turns at the sound of Ginny's frustrated voice, automatically steeling himself. "Yes?"

She gives him a hard look, her expression inscrutable.

After a couple seconds, he's ridiculously uncomfortable.

"Harry, do you need someone right now?"

The reflective question, when she finally opens her mouth again, startles him. "Er...yes?"

"Because I know I do." Her eyes flash with pain, and he reminds himself that she's hurting as much as he is, in her own way. "I need someone, and I want that someone to be you."

And just like that, his throat tightens, making it difficult to swallow. _Make sure you know what you really want_, his mind echoes Hermione.

"You do?"

Her lips curve into a sad half-smile as she reaches to take his hand. "I've always wanted it to be you."

He can't help it when he wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly. It's instinctive.

"Will you, Harry?"

He closes his eyes, a dreamily distracted smile and thoughts of nargles making his mouth go dry. Trying to momentarily shut them out, he buries his face in Ginny's flaming hair, inhaling her flowery scent. Isn't this what everyone expects?

"Yes," he breathes, his voice almost inaudible.

... ... ...

_I'm leaving._

He waves the scrap of paper at her in disbelief when he reads it, his face paling further by the second.

"What is this?" He holds it in front of her eyes, as though she isn't the one who wrote it and slipped it into his hand a few minutes ago.

"I'm leaving," she states simply, a carefree shrug of her shoulders concealing the absolute mess within.

"But where? And when? And _why_?" He's shaking, she realizes, mild tremors running through his entire body. He's falling apart on the inside too.

"I can't stay here." She turns away, avoiding the sight of his distraught face. "I'm going to travel. I'll study magical creatures. Explore the world a bit."

The enticing way it sounds aloud makes her heart beat a little faster, the thought of her forthcoming future genuinely thrilling her. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he repeats brokenly, his composure and expression deflating. "That's hardly any time at all."

"Any time for what?" she can't help but ask as she turns to face him, curious to see where he thinks this is heading. There's still a glimmer of a hope in her heart for a choice that she knows he won't make.

"For - " he breaks off abruptly, shaking his head. "Luna," he begins again, his voice caressing her name like no one else does, "please don't go."

"Why?" It feels like it's scarcely a whisper, her breathing is so shallow.

His almond-shaped eyes blink slowly, the gorgeous green color making her go weak at the knees like always. "Because I couldn't bear it."

"And why is that?" She's pushing, and she knows it. But she has to. It's her last opportunity.

Without warning, he leans forward and tenderly kisses her, a brief touch that leaves her wanting more. "Because I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart stops thudding for a fraction of a second, just enough time for her to wonder if it's possible for love to actually kill someone.

"Oh, Harry."

... ... ...

He loves her, he loves her, he loves her.

The concept of it is somehow so foreign and yet so familiar at the same time. He loves her.

"You can't." For the first time ever, she looks as though she's trying to hold back tears as she utters the phrase.

He simply stares at her, bewildered.

"You and Ginny," she attempts to explain, smiling halfheartedly. "You're made for each other."

One look into her eyes is all it takes for him to open his arms and savor her embrace, running his fingers through her wavy locks and pressing a protective kiss to her forehead.

"But I need you." How pathetic it sounds to him once the words are in the air, but the pain in his chest tells him that it's absolutely true. He can't live without her anymore.

"You won't," she murmurs back, her head resting on his chest perfectly. "You'll have your happy ending."

His arms tighten possessively around her at the thought of her leaving. "Not without you."

"Not _with_ me." She corrects him sadly as she gently pulls away and takes a step back. "If things were different…"

Without finishing her sentence, she makes an odd sound, as though restraining herself from letting out a sob, and leaves him standing there, stunned.

_If things were different…_

He wishes she had finished her sentence, if only to know what might have been. But she didn't, and they aren't, and he _can't_, and why does everyone he loves have to leave?

Being a hero isn't all that it's made out to be.

... ... ...

She crumbles the moment he's out of sight.

For once, she forgets about the ten other people in the house and trudges up the stairs with tears streaming down her face, her nose running and her breathing noisy.

"Luna?" A friendly hand touches her arm lightly, a soft voice offering some comfort. She turns on the step, Hermione smiling at her gently.

She pauses for a moment, unsure of what to do. Surely Hermione would sympathize with Ginny. Surely she would leave to comfort Harry. Surely she would take the other side.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes," she chokes out immediately. Her reasoning fails her, succumbing to her overwhelming need for a shoulder to cry on. "That's why I have to – to – " She stumbles over the words, the finality of it all bearing down on her shoulders.

"To let him go," finishes Hermione, understanding as always. She guides Luna to Ginny's room, which is thankfully empty, sitting on the bed and waiting for Luna to do the same.

"I'm here for you."

And somehow, she can't help but pour out the contents of her heart, so full of love and yet so broken by despair.

... ... ...

He's never liked goodbyes.

Well, actually, he rarely gets the chance to make proper ones. The fact that this one, out of all of them, will have some level of closure is ridiculously fitting.

He watches as she hugs each of the Weasleys; a kindly reassurance for the ever solicitous Mrs. Weasley, a tinkling laugh when Ron makes a wry comment in her ear, a tight hug for Ginny and a promise to write often, a quiet whisper for Hermione that no one else seems to notice.

Finally, she reaches him.

"Harry," she says in that frank, melodic voice of hers. "I wish you all the best." She hugs him with her head in the place where it fits just right, her body relaxing as they both savor their last moments.

"You too, Luna." He tries to convey how much she means to him with a few simple words, hopefully indistinguishable to everyone else around them. "I'll miss you."

She subtly untangles herself from his embrace then, that wistful smile never leaving her face. "I'll miss you more," she replies, her voice half in jest as she steps into the fireplace. Her hand carefully takes the Floo powder from the flowerpot.

_Wait, _he wants to say, _don't go. I love you. _

She looks straight at him in the last instant, her hand dropping the powder and the name of some unknown place leaving her mouth. He knows it will be a long time before they meet again, time stretching on from days into months and even years.

"Goodbye, Luna," he murmurs, the girl he loves vanishing with the flames.

... ... ...

_Ten years later._

An owl flies through the trees, settling in front of her with a roll of parchment tied to its foot. She slides it out as eagerly as always, unfurling it and sitting down to devour Ginny's weekly epistle.

_Dearest Luna, It's always so good to hear from you. Can you believe how long it's been since we've seen each other properly? I think it might have been when Al was born that we last spoke at length! And now my two little boys are underfoot in the house, with another baby on the way. Oh, how things change…_

"Are you Luna Lovegood?"

She drops the missive immediately, letting it roll back in on itself somewhere near her bare feet. "Yes."

The young man smiles at her, a friendly grin that tells her more about his personality than he himself could in a week. "I'm Rolf Scamander. The naturalist you've been assigned to work with this week?"

"Rolf…" she repeats, realizing how much of a mess she must look with her long hair loose and her face most likely smudged with dirt. "It's lovely to meet you."

He holds out a hand browned from the sun, helping her to her feet. "A delight."

She hasn't smiled this brightly in years.

... ... ...

"What shall this one be named?"

Mrs. Weasley looks at him with unrestrained wonder in her eyes, watching as he cradles his newborn daughter for the first time. The miracle of birth, as she reminded him only a few moments ago, never loses its magic.

"Lily," Ginny answers from the bed, her hands resting limply on top of the blanket. "For Harry's mother."

"Simply Lily?" Her mother looks surprised; after all, James Sirius and Albus Severus were far more complicated names.

"Luna." He looks down at the infant in his arms, her features resembling her mother so strongly. He had made a promise to himself long ago, a promise built on stolen kisses and heartbreak and a love that couldn't be. "Lily Luna."

Hermione glances up at him from across the room, but he's beyond caring. There's no hint of a scandal; Luna is their dear friend, after all. Both his and Ginny's.

"Lily Luna Potter. I like it," says Ginny decisively, nodding. "Lily Luna it is."

The baby's mouth twitches in her sleep, almost as if to acknowledge her own approval, unaware that both of her names signify love and loss for her father.

"Hello, Lily," says Harry quietly, gently brushing his lips against her forehead.

"I love you."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm exhausted at the moment, and I have nothing original to say whatsoever. xD This was my first Harry/Luna fic - which I attempted for Tedds, since I know she ships it ;P I wanted to try and make it canon, because I thought it would be more interesting...but it ended up being OOC and oddly titled and having a terribly strange time frame instead. xP Forgive me for all mistakes and everything about it that's wrong (trust me, I know there's a lot, this is rather rushed based on my procrastination ;P); my only hope is that you enjoyed it even a little. Happy birthday, Teddykins! I love you. :) And if any of you you would leave a quick review, it would mean the world to me. :D Thank you!_


End file.
